


Do You Need Anybody?

by alcyonenight



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Financial Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malnutrition, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 03:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12521824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcyonenight/pseuds/alcyonenight
Summary: The flu goes around in winter of junior year, and it really, really sucks. Noctis gets his flu shot (Specs always makes sure that he does) and hestillmanages to come down with this year's version, though between the partial protection of the shot and the meds the doctor gives him, he only feels bad for about two days. He huddles up on the couch and watches shows for toddlers and texts Prom about being bored. Prom laughs at him.So Noctis thinks maybe Prom deserves it, just a little, when the text comes through one morning: "you got me sick, you jerk."The other side of Asidian's fic "Get By With a Little Help."





	Do You Need Anybody?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asidian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Get By With a Little Help](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224950) by [Asidian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/pseuds/Asidian). 



> Asidian's "Get By With a Little Help" manages to hit every one of those narrative beats that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and is one of my favorite fanfics of all time. So I asked permission to write the other side of the story, and here's that. This would probably make sense even if you haven't read the original, but you should go read that one anyway. This is pretty close to pure idfic. If you don't object to that, though, here we are.
> 
> Where scenes are shared, the dialogue and scene blocking is lifted from the original fic.

"Clock's ticking, Prom. We're only getting thirty minutes on the test."

Noctis watches his friend stare down into the depths of the couch and knows he's got no idea.

After a few moments, though, Prom looks up at Noctis again. "Re-something reaction. Retention?" He's not even in the right neighborhood. "Reaction?"

Noctis doesn't quite mean to laugh, but he does anyway. "Reaction reaction. That your final answer?"

"No, wait! I got this." Prompto pauses, and Noctis waits a little longer. "It's, uh. Replacement! Replacement reaction!" 

Well, that's not completely wrong. "So close," says Noctis, flipping over the flash card.

Noctis knows that Prom's not stupid. No, actually, Prompto's pretty smart, back behind the dumb blonde kid act he likes to play. But Prom's grades have tanked in the past couple months. It probably has something to do with the part-time job that he picked up, at that camera place, because the amount of time they've spent together has tanked since then, too. 

But Prompto always sounds so proud of himself when he talks about his job, and he's never proud of himself about anything, so Noctis doesn't want to tell him to quit. Even if he really does want him to quit.

"Why is this class the actual worst?" Prom whines.

Noctis pokes him with his pencil. "Cause you waited for the last minute to cram." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready. Hit me with the next one."

* * *

Prompto eats cheap, simple food, the kind of stuff that Noctis loves and Specs fusses at him about. It's not that Prom doesn't like the more complicated stuff, though. He'll go crazy over green curry, and he always has something enthusiastic to say about anything Specs makes.

Noctis thinks it's that he's making his own food and no one ever taught him how to cook. His parents are always out of town. So his lunches are peanut butter sandwiches, day after day.

And then he just stops bringing lunch at all. After a week or so feeling awkward munching on fancy lunch boxes Ignis makes while Prom stares, he has to ask what's going on.

But Prom does his best impression of a clown doing an impression of a girl, and says, "And ruin my girlish figure?"

He can't help but laugh.

It's not like Prom needs to be any skinnier. He's probably the thinnest person in their class as it is. But Noctis vaugely remembers that he was a chubby kid, once, and wonders if maybe he just has to be really careful about it. Anyway, if it's what he wants to do, it's none of Noctis' business.

* * *

The flu goes around in winter of junior year, and it really, really sucks. Noctis gets his flu shot (Specs always makes sure that he does) and he _still_ manages to come down with this year's version, though between the partial protection of the shot and the meds the doctor gives him, he only feels bad for about two days. He huddles up on the couch and watches shows for toddlers and texts Prom about being bored. Prom laughs at him.

So Noctis thinks maybe Prom deserves it, just a little, when the text comes through one morning: "you got me sick, you jerk."

School's really boring without Prompto, though, and Noctis worries, because his friend's behind enough as it is. He takes the best notes he can knowing Prom will need them. 

As days pass, though, the academic concerns give way to an entirely different set.

It seems like most of the people in their class were sick for about a week, so that's when Noctis starts hoping that Prom will show up one morning, back to his usual perky self, but he just... doesn't. 

Noctis texts him Monday evening, almost two weeks since the last time Prompto's been to class: "you skipping or something?"

Prom texts back: "this bug is seriously kicking my ass"

Noctis frowns, and sends another: "you think you're going to be back soon?"

Prom doesn't respond to that, even four hours later, so Noctis tries again: "are you gonna be okay?"

Noctis leaves that overnight, and nothing, and Prom doesn't show for school again. He sends texts every break, and nothing. No response to anything.

* * *

Noctis fiddles with his phone, sending another text without any actual expectation of a reply, and then all of a sudden he can't take it anymore. He gets to his feet. "I'm going to Prompto's," he calls.

Ignis steps out of the kitchen. "I assume he still has not responded to you?" 

"He hasn't," Noctis says. "So I'm going."

Ignis nods. "Gladiolus should arrive within a few minutes with a car."

And okay, sure, it is literally Ignis' job to be able to figure out what Noctis needs and have it there when he needs it, but Noctis is still surprised, and it must show a little.

"You are not the only one concerned," Ignis says, gentle.

* * *

Prompto's house looks just like every other house on his block except the paint's in different colors. They're all the same shape, same size, same windows. Even Ignis seems a little uncertain; he asks Gladio to read out the house number twice before he pulls into the driveway.

Noctis doesn't wait for anyone else. He makes straight for the front door. A hard push on the doorbell doesn't even result in a noise, so Noctis knocks a few times, and waits.

By the time that Ignis and Gladio catch up to him, he's knocked a few more times, harder, to still no response.

"Try calling him, perhaps," Ignis suggests, though it's obvious none of them think that's going to work. Still, just so he can say he did, Noctis goes through his contacts and tries to send a call.

"The number you are calling has been temporarily disconnected," a polite, robotic voice informs him.

They all look at each other. Noctis knows he's got the right number, but he checks anyway, and calls again, to the same result.

Noctis goes for the doorknob. The door's locked, of course. 

"Want me to kick it open?" Gladio asks.

Noctis only hesitates a moment. "Yes," he says.

Ignis cuts in quickly. "Perhaps we ought to try a side door first?" he suggests. 

So the group circles around to the side of the house. The door's locked there, too.

"Well, at least the car blocks us from view," Ignis mutters, and then Gladio slams his boot right above the lock.

A sturdy second kick, and the door swings open for them.

Gladio opens the door and steps in first. As Noctis steps in, he watches him fiddle with the lightswitches. Neither of the two switches next to each other illuminate the kitchen they're standing in. 

It's strange, but there are more important things to worry about. "Prompto?" Noctis calls.

Perhaps in response, he hears a weird raspy noise followed by thick, ugly coughing that echoes in the quiet house. 

"Prompto? I'm coming in," Noctis says, opening the door to the room the noise came from. There's someone in the bed, curled up almost exactly in the center. "Is your power out or something? The lights in the kitchen aren't working." 

As Noctis steps closer, he gets a better look. That's Prompto, definitely, but he's a wreck. He's bone white except for a bright flush on his cheeks. His hair is one huge tangle. And he's shivering, or shaking maybe, there on the bed. "Holy shit, Prom. You look terrible." 

Prompto just blinks up at him with glassy, distant eyes, while Noctis palms his forehead. Definitely a fever going on there.

Noctis pulls away and calls for Ignis and Gladio. He realizes that he didn't actually make a plan for what happened when he actually _found_ Prompto.

"M'cold," Prompto slurs.

"Yeah, I bet. I've got my jacket on, and I'm freezing." Come to think of it, it really shouldn't be this cold inside the house. Even if Prompto had been too hot and turned down the heat, this was still pretty extreme.

But there's at least _something_ Noctis could do, because there are blankets lying on the floor in a heap. Carefully, he gathers them up and arranges them over his friend. Prompto hums and his eyes fall shut. 

Ignis steps into the room, then, with Gladio behind him. Whatever they've been doing this whole time, they're not happy about how it turned out. But Ignis has his attention entirely on Prompto. "Not doing well, I take it?"

Prompto stirs, like he's been sleeping hard for hours instead of dozing for less than a minute.

"Prompto? How are you feeling?" Ignis asks again.

Prom opens his eyes, but he just starts coughing again, muffling the obviously-painful barking into his blankets. It seems to go on forever.

"Empty?" Gladio asks, and Noctis looks up to see Ignis holding a medicine bottle upside-down over his hand.

"Indeed," Ignis replies, even less pleased than before. "Prompto, can you tell me how long it's been since you last took this medication?"

Prompto's eyes are shut again, and Noctis has a sinking feeling. "Prom? Prompto?" he tries. "Just a bit longer, come on..."

But it looks like he's down for the count.

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis look at each other. 

"Well, that cough sounded unpleasant," Ignis says, finally.

"He's running a fever," Noctis says.

Gladio considers and gives a gentle pinch to the back of the hand Prompto left on his pillow. Prompto doesn't stir, and the skin takes longer than Noctis thinks is quite right to slip back into place. "He's dehydrated," Gladio explains. "We need to get him out of here."

Now that's something Noctis can get behind. "Yeah. Let's get him out of here."

* * *

Ignis breaks the news while they're driving back to the apartment, Prompto out cold in the back seat. "There were notices from utility companies on his kitchen table," he explains. "And..." he hesitates, so Noctis can tell he's really not going to like this one. "There was no food."

" _Nothing?_ " Noctis asks.

"Part of a bottle of soy sauce and half a stick of butter," Gladio replies. 

"Shit," Noctis says. " _Shit,_ " he repeats, because the implications of this are dawning on him, and he really doesn't like them. Even if he was too sick to cook--and he certainly was--there should be at least _something_ lying around. "Not even, like, dry rice or..."

"No," Ignis confirms quietly. 

"Shit," Noctis mumbles, thinking of the week the lunch boxes vanished, and just how early into their friendship that had been.

"They turned his heat off three days ago," Gladio says. 

"We should've gone to check on him earlier," Noctis says.

* * *

Prompto sleeps through the entire drive and doesn't so much as twitch when Gladio carries him up to the apartment. He does open his eyes when Gladio deposits him on the bed, though, staring around in muted confusion. "You're at Noct's apartment," Gladio tells him, with a gentleness that Noctis would not have expected. "We're taking care of you. Got it?"

At least some of it gets through, or maybe it's the familiar voice, because the little crease in Prompto's eyebrows slackens. The glaze in his eyes doesn't fade a bit, though. "Cold," Prompto manages, before it sends him into yet another fit of that awful coughing.

Noctis hesitates to draw the blankets over his friend, thinking of how quickly he dropped off last time. He sits down on the bed next to him instead and brushes a hand against Prompto's cheek. "Hey, look at me," he coaxes, and glances up to see Ignis has already swept out of the room. Good.

He looks back down at Prompto and is rewarded by a few slow blinks. "N-Noct?"

And that's a kick right to the teeth, that Prom's not even sure. "Yup," Noctis replies. "We need you to stay awake a couple minutes, okay?"

Prompto blinks, and slowly rubs at his eyes. "M'kay," he mumbles, and blinks again, heavily.

Ignis sweeps into the room again, though, moving quickly, thermometer in his hand. "Here," he says, and manages to get it fumbled under Prompto's tongue. "Just hold still a moment. There we are." He takes the implement away and frowns down at it. "Prompto, have you seen a doctor since you've been sick?"

"No," Prompto says, eyes going out of focus. They fall shut again, and he manages to pry them open a breath later, but it's obviously not going to last.

"When's the last time you took any medicine?" Ignis continues.

"Dunno," Prompto mumbles. "Y's'erday?"

Ignis sighs. "Rest," he tells Prompto, and Prom's out like a light. 

"How bad?" Gladio asks. 

"Not good," Ignis replies, and lets them see the number on the thermometer. "I don't have the expertise required for this situation. He needs medical attention."

Noctis frowns. "We gotta get him in the car again?"

Gladio shakes his head. "Can get a doctor from the Citadel to do a house call," he says. "Did it when Iris sprained her ankle."

"Then- then let's do that," Noctis says. "Iggy, can you..."

"Of course," Ignis replies, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

* * *

Noctis doesn't stay in the room for the examination, but he can't bring himself to be too far away. He leans against the wall and stares at the firmly-closed door.

It's not as if he can't hear what's going on, anyway, even if maybe he should try not to listen. Ignis is serving as their designated legal adult, so he's in there to make medical decisions, but there's no reason for Noctis to invade Prom's privacy like this. He just can't help himself.

Prompto's got pneumonia, which comes as no surprise. He's dehydrated, like Gladio thought. The fever's dropped a little in the couple hours it took to get a doctor out here, but the doctor mentions it might be measurement error. His blood pressure is low. They need his weight to give him the right dose of medication, so they have to wrestle him onto a scale, which takes awhile, and then it turns out that he's significantly underweight, too. The doctor draws blood and takes some other samples to see exactly what's causing the problem, and promises to come back with the right medication in a few hours. In the meantime...

In the meantime, Noctis leans against the wall and takes a deep, slow breath.

* * *

Ignis goes to the kitchen to make dinner, as if the world makes sense, and leaves Noctis with instructions to get Prompto to drink the glass of water by the bed the next time he wakes up.

Noctis takes out some of his homework, but he doesn't make much of an effort to actually do it, just watching Prompto sleep. It's no wonder he can't stay awake for long at a time. The coughing shakes his entire body, and it's got to hurt, so he's probably not getting much rest out of it.

Eventually, Prompto makes a sound, and Noctis realizes his eyes are open. He sits his friend up as quickly as he can, not wanting to waste a moment of awareness, and holds the cup for him. "Drink," Noct says. "C'mon, Prom, just a little."

Prompto takes a sip and frowns. "S'gross," he complains, and his weight shifts like he's trying to move away but doesn't have enough fight in him to do it properly.

"There's aspirin smashed up in it. It'll help with the fever," Noctis explains, though he's not entirely sure that Prompto's going to understand. " _Drink,_ " he says, moving the rim of the glass back into place.

Prompto sips at the water, leaning heavily against Noctis. It feels like it takes an hour to get through the whole thing, with all the times they have to stop for that nasty cough. But Noctis keeps coaxing, and Prompto keeps at it, until finally, the glass is drained. 

Noctis lowers Prompto back down and expects him to be asleep as soon as he does it, but while he's putting the cup down, he hears a hoarse "Hey, Noct?"

"Yeah?" Noctis asks, and maybe it's taken long enough for the aspirin to start doing some good, because Prompto looks more... present than he has this whole time.

Prompto gives him a weak, exhausted smile. "Thanks," he says, and closes his eyes.

* * *

Noctis is so desperate not to think about what is going on that he is reading reports at four in the morning.

Sleep is impossible. His couch is plenty comfortable, even for his messed-up back, and it's not as if he isn't tired. It's just the sheer weight of everything that's happened since he got back from school crashes down on his skull every time he doesn't have something else to think of, and he's felt about thirty seconds from a complete meltdown since the doctor showed up.

A soft tap on his shoulder jolts Noctis to attention. It's just Ignis, though, with a mug of something--hot chocolate--in his hand. "My apologies," Ignis murmurs. "Something to drink?"

Noctis accepts the mug and warms his hands against it. "Thanks," he says. 

"I suppose I don't need to tell you that you should be sleeping?"

"I know," Noctis says. "Shouldn't you be, too?"

Ignis smiles wryly. "I intend to cancel my appointments for the day," he says. "I assume you would appreciate the same."

Noctis sighs. "That would be great, Specs." He stares down into his chocolate. 

"There is no reason you couldn't sit with Prompto for a while," Ignis says. "You may find it reassuring. The antibiotics have already provided some improvement."

"He could've died," Noctis says, slowly, "if we hadn't gone to check on him. His parents aren't even in Lucis."

"We found him," Ignis says. "He is going to be fine."

"He could've just asked." That's really what Noctis can't get his head around. Why wouldn't he just _ask_?

"And when he's well enough to attend to a lecture, we shall explain this to him," Ignis says. 

Noctis manages a small smile. "Yeah," he says. "Sounds like a plan." He takes a sip of the hot chocolate, sets it down on the coffee table, and gets to his feet. "I'm gonna go check on Prom, then."

And Prompto _is_ doing a little better, when Noctis slips into the chair next to the bed to watch him. He's a little less pale, and his forehead's a little cooler. He's still got that terrible, thick cough shaking him every now and then, but it seems to be coming on a little less often. Noctis does feel calmer after watching him for awhile.

He blinks, and then someone's giving him a gentle shake to the shoulder. "Come on, Princess, you know you're not supposed to sleep without proper back support. Go lay on the couch." 

Noctis realizes sunlight's starting to peek through the curtain. He really must've fallen asleep. "Yeah, okay," he says, pulling himself to his feet. As he shuffles out of the room to go crash on the couch, Gladio takes the seat he just vacated, picking up a book. 

Noctis decides that Prompto's going to be just fine.

* * *

It takes two days for Prompto's fever to actually break, and another day for him to be able to stay awake more than half an hour at a time. Even after that, it still seems like he's coughing all the time. Ignis says it'll only get worse if they use anything to suppress it, but it looks pretty painful, and it reminds Noctis he fucked up every time.

By the time the weekend rolls around, though, Prompto's got some color back to him, and Ignis deems him well enough to be bundled up on the couch rather than the bed, "If you let him rest when he gets tired, Noctis."

So they play video games, and then they nap because Prompto's flagging and Noctis is always up for some recreational sleeping, and they have lunch and play video games again, and Saturday is the best day that Noctis has had in three weeks. 

"Why didn't you ask us for help?" Noctis asks, as casual as he can, over a round of some cart-racing game he's already losing badly.

"I thought I had it under control," Prompto replies, obviously embarrassed. "It would've been fine if I'd got better a little faster."

Noctis wants to throttle him a little, because Prompto had been slowly starving, and that's _why_ he got so sick, and he clearly still thinks it was okay. Instead, he says, "At least tell me. We can lay off the arcade, play games here, stuff like that, you know?"

"Sorry," Prompto says. Then he starts coughing and his car runs straight off the track.

Noctis doesn't know how his best friend could possibly be so dense as to think he wanted an apology. He pauses the game, waits out the coughing, then says, "Nah, not your fault." Prompto obviously doesn't get it, and it's infuriating, but Noctis has no idea how to get anywhere without making things worse. "You hungry?" he asks. "I can tell Specs to get started on dinner."

"I could eat," Prompto says, which in Noctis' experience means that Prompto will completely demolish anything put in front of him. "But, umm. You guys really don't have to do all this for me."

Noctis stares at the wall and mentally goes through the list of things he would like to say: "You scared the shit out of all of us." "You have been literally starving." "I am so sorry I didn't notice anything." He doesn't say any of them. What he does say is, "We want to, dumbass."

"Oh," says Prompto.

* * *

Noctis keeps Prompto at his apartment for as long as he can keep coming up with excuses, past when the cough is finally breaking up, even a couple days after he goes back to work and school. Noctis wants him where he can see him, where he can make sure that he's okay. (He sneaks into the bed with Prompto those last few nights, once he's sure it won't keep him awake, because he sleeps better hearing that slow, steady breath that means Prompto's not drowning in his own lungs.) But it can't last forever. Eventually, Prompto has to go home.

So almost two weeks after rescuing Prompto from himself, Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio move him back in. Noctis reminds himself it's a good thing.

* * *

"We left him with enough food, right?" Noctis asks.

"Prompto should be sufficiently stocked for another two weeks," Ignis replies.

Gladio hums. "If he doesn't try to stretch it," he says.

The room goes quiet.

"So about that meeting," Noctis says.

* * *

Prompto has a kind of adorable puzzled look on his face when he opens his door. "Uh, what happened to the meeting?"

"What meeting?" Noctis says, and pushes past him.

"The meeting," Prompto repeats.

Noctis sets down the pile of take-out boxes. "Cancelled." 

"Ditched," Gladio says at almost the same time.

"Rescheduled," Ignis says. 

Noctis looks over at him and rolls his eyes. 

Ignis sighs. "But not without good reason," he continues.

Prompto blinks. "Yeah?" he says, with a deeply confused furrow to his brow. "What reason?"

"You're an idiot," Noctis says, because he has dealt with diplomats, dignitaries, and all kinds of other obnoxious hangers-on, and none of them are as frustrating as Prompto. He yanks his friend onto the couch, since apparently, despite Ignis unpacking the games and movie and popcorn, Prompto still has no idea what's going on. "You like the green curry from that place down the street, right?"

Prompto opens his mouth and closes it, and Noctis wonders if he's got it wrong. Prompto's eyes dart around the room like it's turned into a completely unfamiliar place in the past two minutes, like somehow Gladio starting up a movie and Ignis lifting take-out from boxes has violated a law of the universe. 

But then Prompto nods, and takes a breath, and says, "Thanks." And he gives Noctis a very nervous, very pleased smile.

"Hey, this beats some dumb meeting any day," Noctis reminds him, and settles in.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Asidian, thanks for letting me play in your sandbox. I had a lot of fun.


End file.
